"i'm restless. things are calling me away. my hair is being pulled by the stars again."

anais nin

Collaboration

i recently reconnected with a friend that I knew online like 10-12 years ago. We used to write on a hiphop message board and would collab on pieces to spark inspiration. Over the last few years we lost touch, but we jumped back in to our sharing mode and it has been a little blessing in my exhausted little life.

*****TERIYAKI (music: Wax Tailor - Seize the Day)

Heat mixed with gravity pulls me down magically

oceanic majesty as I swim so free across her naked sea

schools of fish agree guiding my gliding like giant sea turtles diving

below the depths bubbles of breath escaping to the heavens like lightning

as i go deeper I can feel my chest tightening ... then I exhale!

and release floating across vast valleys of coral reef..

*****KISA

jupiter moons bring her closer

swinging wide she finds who sent her

tiny bits of sand and dreams

memories and candid streams

of laughter.

his purple haze swims around him like love

vibrating in cadence with the oceans hum

unfolding with the free universe as one

collective dancing spirit

in laughter.

*****TERIYAKI

brushstrokes across the skin paint the mood with candlelight

burgundy shades of jazz discharging spirits of delight

her licentious intentions snatch my ghost deep from within

entrancing me in rapture boiling blood through my skin

but I exhibit only peace as the beast finds release 

hearts skipping beats on damp silky smooth sheets

and the skies up above are colored red like juiced beets

cascading upon hot flesh forcing steam to retreat

and the sibilation of breath is the only sound left

*****KISA

lying languid like an open peony heavy with dew 

trapped in a lush moment of stillness and magic and you.

the room is filled with binaural rhythms of silent poetry,

a quiet so soft, the words are all lost

drifting between the rise and fall of your breath and the sea.

freedom lives between the letters that make up the sound of words

naked space plays in the heat and the lust and the unheard.

cosmic shifts, consciousness and constantness builds eleven perfectly wet breaths that count beyond time and capture a sublime understanding of now

and this...this stardust found. 

give me more, wrap me up in a storm of alliteration, third eye visions and inspirations. my senses are full of a dying season, i’m craving island rains that pour like needles on flesh, skies full of painted sex, breezes so heavy with mood you can’t deny the esoteric quintet passing by. i’m starved, longing for the wordspun illusion of creative worth, an eccentric vedic rebirth of my imagination. 

******TERIYAKI

... enlightening my soul in an age of blackness

as I spin around waiting for lucidity to slither free

and winds unfold timid petals waiting to be kindled

spicy dew moistened stigma . .so delicately bindled

pulsating signals of ambrosial liquids like syrup on lips

dancing like moonlight over galleys on forgotten pirate ships

lick my fingers after flipping through your perfect pages as I

trampoline bouncing off stars somersaulting weightless

lost in a moment forever frozen in stained glass ... break this

till then I'll orbit melancholia with a doom accepted facelift

******TERIYAKI

simply amazing grace profounds my inner being

to seeing spotlit tints dancing on my silent ceiling

kaleidoscopes of memories that light my soul aflame

those amazing moments with strangers you'll never forget

but can't remember their name

the beauty of genuine friendship that grows like seedlings to redwoods

strength combined with love and affection so easily understood

our souls are like rice paper, carefully tread upon

but the imprints left behind are so delicately beautiful

like ones reflection in ponds

the child that lives inside our eyes, the windows forever open as when we were born

simply a pebble on our path to enlightenment, riding on the backs of the forlorn...

******KISA (music: Yusef Lateef - Like It Is)

its like it is...

slow movements of depressed motion

deep like percussion begging for slighted devotion

fingered reality plays with melancholy strings and reeds

while my traumatic week unwinds

laying littered in the peripheral, I readjust my mental tides.

its like it is...

and its hard to find a moment to linger for myself

I wrap my focus around emergencies, broken dreams 

and how not be an asshole.

id rather escape than create

id rather imagine wings of freedom 

than dive into the abyss that exists in my mind.

it is like it is...

but

the words shared are beautiful and felt

floating around a dark room,

bumping into breaths that swell,

tickles and whispers like bursts of sweet in a sour gloom.

it is like it is....

and the invisible thread, the spider silk 

that connects souls plays on the wind like guilt

catching sunshine, honest rhymes and bits of time

that you thought you’d lost along the way.

and as i read between the lines

the gratitude blooms like perfection...

reverberation divine....

its like it is...

and out of my need to not hurt feelings

I am writing.

I am trying.

I am breathing that breath that tastes like 

need.

a need repressed that stretches the seams

of my emotion.

a need to express

a need to connect through words

a need to realign my spirit 

with likeminded verb bandits

and reality bending starlets.

It is like it is,

and I thank you

for the reprieve

and love you

for inspiring the need.

Zack de la Rocha on OWS

“This poem is dedicated to the Occupy movement whose courage is changing the world. Stay Strong. We are winning.” - Zack de la Rocha

The beginning spills through city veins

Into the arteries

And under powers poison clouds

We move like the shadows

Through the alley ways

Through nightmares bought and sold as dreams

Through barren factories

Through boarded schools

Through rotting fields

Through the burning doors of the past

Through imaginations exploding

To break the curfews in our minds

Our actions awaken dreams of actions multiplied

A restless fury

Once buried like burning embers

Left alone to smolder

But together stacked under the walls of a dying order

All sparks are counted

Calloused hands raised in silence

Over the bonfire of hope unincorporated

It's flame restores tomorrows meaning

Across the graveyards of hollow promises

As gold dipped vultures pick at what is left of our denial

And the youngest among us

Stare at us stoned like eyes determined

And say

Death for us may come early

Cause dignity has no price

At the corner of now and nowhere

Anywhere

Everywhere

Tomorrow is calling

Tomorrow is calling

Do not be afraid

*I have been waiting to hear his take on things and I can't even lie, I cried a little*

Zack was fundamental in the removal of my blinders all those years ago, listening to my japanese version of the RATM album on headphones in my rack underway in the pacific. Over the last 20 years (almost) my ears would hear new things, pick up on bits I missed, re-inspired me, pumped me up...it still holds a permanent spot in my mood rotation. There are only a handful of people in the world that I don't know, but hold close to my heart, he is one of them. Thank you Zack. 

Pledge of Resistance

by Saul Williams

We believe that as people living

in the United States it is our

responsibility to resist the injustices

done by our government,

in our names.

Not in our name

will you wage endless war

there can be no more deaths

no more transfusions

of blood for oil.

Not in our name

will you invade countries

bomb civilians, kill more children

letting history take its course

over the graves of the nameless.

Not in our name

will you erode the very freedoms

you have claimed to fight for.

Not by our hands

will we supply weapons and funding

for the annihilation of families

on foreign soil.

Not by our mouths

will we let fear silence us.

Not by our hearts

will we allow whole peoples

or countries to be deemed evil.

Not by our will

and Not in our name.

WE PLEDGE RESISTANCE

We pledge alliance with those

who have come under attack

for voicing opposition to the war

or for their religion or ethnicity.

We pledge to make common cause

with the people of the world

to bring about justice,

freedom and peace.

Another world is possible

and we pledge to make it real.

sacred spiral

find your center

find your center

find your center

find the words

to unfold

without boundaries.

find the space

to exist

without criticism.

tune out the noise

move away from the disconnected

abandon the unloving.

embrace all that moves you

be drawn in to the movement

vibe with the vibration.

find your center

unplug

speak percussion

find the rhthym

that fills your isolation.

find the beauty 

that soothes you.

create,

bleed into the design.


allow yourself to spiral into your core

at the speed of your own cadence.

celebrate what you are

forgive what you are not.

find your center

find your center

find your center

life on paper

Its been a crazy month or so, I don’t even know where to begin. I’ve had two “break-ups”, one with Inara’s nursery school and another with a client. Both relationships were wearing me down, stressing me out and going against my grain. Both had positive aspects, but they just didn’t outweigh the negative and I decided, rather impulsively, to end both. It all felt sort of manic actually, so I have been waiting for the reality to set in that I made a bad decision...but two/three weeks in and both still feel like reasonable decisions. 

I am still struggling with the whole ‘stay at home’ mom role. I can easily identify my fear of reliance on a man, my fear of not being able to legitimize my professional and intellectual abilities, my fear of becoming obsolete in the professional world...its so tricky. I am 100% positive my presence and time with Inara is the most important use of my time and focus, but I have been so conditioned to weigh my worth on the sum of my professional abilities. My professional career and consequently, my financial independence has been a source of pride in me. Pride I understand to be superficial, pride that separates me, pride that I need to overcome. But as I’ve mentioned before, its has so defined me, that I cling to it, unable to imagine worth without it. 

The OCCUPY movement has become a big factor in our lives. We have been active at Freedom Plaza in DC, not sleeping there, but coming down on the weekends, participating, donating, supporting. I am so full of hope. Hope I haven’t felt in over a decade. I am channeling all my frustration into supporting the movement that I honestly believe can change the world if we direct ourselves appropriately. There is an awakening happening and I have been waiting for it for so long...I had lost faith that it might actually happen on a large scale...and now it is manifesting in intelligent, strong minded, focused people! There are many challenges, but I feel a shift coming all around me and it is uplifting.

We adopted a cat... Two years ago, my wonderful 15 year old cat, kisapele, passed away from a tumor. Since then, I had convinced myself that I would never commit to more animals (we have a dog and a canary). But things play out funny sometimes. My son volunteers at the animal shelter. Everyone but me wanted a cat. I said, never, unless it was siamese (I grew up with a siamese) and only if we adopted. Literally, one day later, a siamese mix came into the shelter. She is beautiful and quirky and a welcome addition to our strange brew. Her name is Neela Shanti (blue peace) for her big blue eyes.

So pretty much, life is good. Fall is creeping in and I feel grounded like the leaves, prepping to decompose into the earth of understanding.

~peace, love & light~

‎"Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. 

I'll meet you there. 

When the soul lies down in that grass, the world is too full to talk about. 

Ideas, language, and even the phrase 'eachother' doesn't make any sense." 

-Rumi

some thoughts on the day

So I guess everyone has their story about where they were, how they felt on the morning of 9/11 and how they have changed from it. My feelings about all the media madness, flag waving and vigils are conflicted. I understand and acknowledge the pain, but I resist the brainwashing. A lost life is a lost life, I can’t hold lost lives any higher in esteem than I hold the 6236 soldiers that have died since 2001, the lives of those across waters who die at our hand or the lives lost in natural disasters everywhere.


But still, the images of that morning and the days after are imprinted on my soul. And I feel it is important for me to finally write down, if for no other reason than to share with my grandchildren. I was at work and was called back to the executive directors conference room. I walked into the room happy and in just a few seconds, felt myself melting into the floor. There were about ten others, watching silently in horror and then the second plane hit. Panic came over me, adrenaline starting pumping, My only thought is that I needed to be with my son. I left immediately and got to the school right before they decided that they were not going to release any kids. Still today, you do not have a right to pick your child up from school in the case of a disaster/emergency! Elan tells me they were watching in their classrooms. I couldn’t believe they did that, events such as these require parental guidance in my opinion. He was just 7! (reasons number 108 and 109 not to send your kids to public school) So we get home, curled up on the couch together watched the news. We were in shock. We couldn’t get through to our friends and family in NY. The pentagon got hit. Another plane is down in PA. I tried to comfort him but words failed and instead we just cried and snuggled and hoped the attacks were done. I don’t remember much of the days following, it felt like the news was always on somewhere. Soon, the warmth of people coming together, people reaching out to everyone, our shared grief. Quickly, the flags came out, on porches, on cars, on buildings. Emergency prep plans ensued. Then came anger, chest pounding. War became imminent. The world had changed. 


And after ten years, time hasn’t shaken this shadow, we’ve been locked into this dysfunctional state of patriotism and fear. Our psyches unable to heal properly. We have responded to terrorism with terrorism... internationally and domestically. At the expense of our sense of true american spirit, we have evolved into a new militarized nation. We spend billions if not trillions on this shift, meanwhile our economy spirals down the drain. Social systems that once made us great, are suddenly wasteful. Ideology that my grandparents came here for, is just to liberal. Where once we created and the whole world followed, now we fight. We have become destructive and have lost the pride in being productive. 


I know, I sound like a pessimistic, sentimentalist. I just remember a time when I was wearing a uniform, saluted the flag daily, was proud to be an American. I was just beginning to take my blinders off back then, so a lot of that bliss was ignorance. But still, since 9/11, I have refused to have a flag (either on my porch, on my car or on my body) and I don’t ever see myself getting over that. I have grown hard in my mistrust of government and lack of faith in the power of the people. I am a patriot. One that scrutinizes and questions everything, but one none the less. And I am ridiculously offended by the attempts to manipulate that patriotism. 


At the end of the day, I won’t even go to the place that says how we should have reacted and evolved, because the truth is...everything is perfect and I am learning to have faith in that. It is our lesson to bear witness to and suffer from so that we can grow.

Happy Anniversary

Five years ago today, Jay and I fell hopelessly in love. We were online friends for a year, and then at some point both of our situations changed and the conversations became different. While he was in Iraq we spent hours on the phone, writing and getting to know each other virtually. The depth of our questions and thoughts were intense, the sound of his voice gave me goosebumps, the poetry that flowed out of me was on fire. Finally we met face to face (8/19/06) , and I was nervous about what he would think of me, but I knew that I already loved him. The year that followed was such a beautiful dance inspired by destiny, love, magic and a need to be understood. The memories of all of this were both the foundation that has saved us through trying times and the glaring reminder of what we have since moved away from. Love grows, twists and changes while it survives. To say I am grateful is just not enough. But I would be lying if I said I didn’t miss the rush, the weightlessness beneath lips, the hyper vibration of new love. Of course its not all gloom, Jay has become my best friend, my strongest ally, my finest opponent, my biggest teacher and my daydreaming idealist partner. I was never taught, nor did I ever witness, what love evolves in to. My parents weren’t in love and the people around me who were, kept this knowledge to themselves. We are conditioned to seek the rush and then what? But what becomes when a couple survives pain, loss, disappointment and real life, is an amazing thing. I feel a part of something that I never knew I wanted. It has allowed me to grow and blossom into the woman I never knew I was or could be. Its amazing…Seven months after meeting we got engaged, five months after getting engaged, we got pregnant. Marriage plans stalled, money priorities shifted and being the people we are, we haven’t gotten around to it yet. Maybe we will, maybe we won’t. In my heart, we were married years ago by the transformation of our selves into us.

Happy Anniversary!

A Dream Within A Dream

By Edgar Allen Poe


Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

crabby

a silent trickle
down the spine
anxiety spins
its sticky crime
wages war against my logic
plays tricks on my sense of quiet
and leaves a disgusted film
on everything.

a conundrum of enormous proportions

Earlier this month, the Dalai Lama spoke in Washington DC and I was lucky enough to attend with my son. I have seen him speak many times over the years, but never in person. I was moved, he is Yoda and you can’t not be moved by his humble presence. He spoke about "world peace through inner peace" and I love that, it is truth. If just 25% of the world could find peace within ourselves, there would be an inevitable shift in the world.

In the last month or so, my reoccurring theme of focus is poverty. Here in the US and globally. I am not a sheep hiding under a red white and blue flag, I am aware of what is occurring in the world. Western games of domination, strong-arming and just straight up stealing. Leaving a vast majority of third world residents living of less than a dollar a day. It is shameful. I am broken inside over it. It is as if someone is raising my hand against my will to kill someone….slowly, maliciously.

I’ve often wondered what the Dalai Lama thinks about this dilemma of poverty, inflicted upon others by western governments. How is an average person, living in one of these western countries, to deal with the weight and guilt of such infliction? I may not purposefully direct or intend it, but my tax dollars support it. So, when we are discussing compassion and being one with our brothers and sisters, how do we digest our governments actions against them, being that they are indeed, rooted in our own inactions?

I understand, we change the world with our compassion, one person at a time. But how can we not think globally when 16,000+ children die everyday due to hunger related illnesses? We can do what we can do, but its still our karma. Its still our responsibility. We allow the beast to live and prosper on the backs of our brothers and sisters everywhere. We allow the beast to influence our love, allow them to distract us from their injustice, allow them to dictate all of our futures. I want to slay the beast and it is hard for me to think about feeding one person, when tomorrow there will be thousands more.

I am a fighting Buddhist. I would gladly take on the karma of violence if I knew it would benefit the many, if I knew I would be leveling the playing field, if I knew that it was just. But, yes, indeed, I am naïve. I have superhero dreams of gathering up all the 1%’ers, pilfering their bank accounts and having them serve the poor.

And as I look out my suburban windows, nine miles from the world bank and the IMF…I am frozen. Stuck. Afraid that I am powerless. Scared of what may come should I fight. Selfishly thinking of what my family can loose. It is an conundrum of enormous proportions.

napkin notes

I am not here to please you,
to help you sleep at night,
to help ease your need to control.
I am not striving for your perfection,
nor my own.
I am trying to find a balance,
that has little to do
with your judgment,
your fears,
or your inability to understand.
I am me. Not you.
Born into my life. Not yours.
To walk my path,
often slightly off
or blatantly askew.
Sometimes hermetic,
other times flamboyant.
I am trying to be kind
and compassionate
and bold in everything.
But,
I keep getting knocked down,
kicked and clucked at
for things beside the point.
Live your life,
it’s the only one you should rely on changing.
The only one obligated to listen.
Everything else is just noise…
Ranting,
Finger pointing,
Ransom notes,
A character hoax
In a book I would never read.
So do you,
Because you need it.
I am warm and comfy in the odd house
that raises strange birds and quirky chicks.
I don’t want to fit in,
blend in
or even participate in the madness
of A-alike, B-alike or C-alike.
I am living in the realm somewhere past Z.
Hanging on to the cliff of nothingness
laughing.

*i found a napkin in a purse I used last summer with this scribbled all over. I don't remember who/what inspired the feeling, but I love finding little pieces of myself like that*

women

Im feeling mean,
spiteful and caught up in a treason filled dream
where so-called friends tip off the enemy
and exchange whispers of my shitty personality.
Overwhelmed and paranoid,
while I whittle my stock down to crumbs
to sort through
shiny gems
tumbled stones
and plastic bits of bitches
that keep you close to observe,
instead of love.
I’m uncut and jagged
it takes the investment of time to reveal my luster
I may not be eager to spill my beans to make you feel comfortable.
And you mistake that for arrogance,
a guarded snotty façade
in which you are being judged.
The truth is...
I am prudent with women,
I learned early how to tiptoe,
strategically assess moods, vibes and intents.
Easily broken,
I love genuinely and deeply.
I am unable to casually connect.
The truth is…
I prefer the loyalty of men
Where discretion is valued,
Ripping yourself open is not.
The truth is…
I shouldn’t care if you like me
I should know that its your loss,
And leave it alone
Because to you,
A stone is just a stone.


This past year, my daughter has been going to this cooperative nursery school for 2.5 hours a day, 2 days a week. The parents "co-op" a few times a month, where they are in the class room helping the teachers, cleaning and such. You also have to participate as a member, serving on committees, events, etc. Its a great school, a great idea and I love the kids. The parents...not so much. I haven't felt this "unliked" since high school. I am a generally warm person, always trying to put others at ease, but I don't put myself out there much. Im not always comfortable with new people, but don't usually have trouble, but here...man...its like I have the word BITCH written on my forehead. And the only reason it really bothers me, is because it involves my child. I don't get it...really.

Regardless, I signed up for next year (because Inara loves it!). Maybe I need a mantra to keep me lifted out of the bullshit :)

Gil Scott-Heron ~ RIP~ 1949-2011

Winter in America

From the Indians who welcomed the pilgrims
And to the buffalo who once ruled the plains
Like the vultures circling beneath the dark clouds
Looking for the rain
Looking for the rain

Just like the cities staggered on the coastline
Living in a nation that just can't stand much more
Like the forest buried beneath the highway
Never had a chance to grow
Never had a chance to grow

And now it's winter
Winter in America
Yes and all of the healers have been killed
Or sent away, yeah
But the people know, the people know
It's winter
Winter in America
And ain't nobody fighting
'Cause nobody knows what to say
Save your soul, Lord knows
From Winter in America

The Constitution
A noble piece of paper
With free society
Struggled but it died in vain
And now Democracy is ragtime on the corner
Hoping for some rain
Looks like it's hoping
Hoping for some rain

And I see the robins
Perched in barren treetops
Watching last-ditch racists marching across the floor
But just like the peace sign that vanished in our dreams
Never had a chance to grow
Never had a chance to grow

And now it's winter
It's winter in America
And all of the healers have been killed
Or been betrayed
Yeah, but the people know, people know
It's winter, Lord knows
It's winter in America
And ain't nobody fighting
Cause nobody knows what to save
Save your souls
From Winter in America

And now it's winter
Winter in America
And all of the healers done been killed or sent away
Yeah, and the people know, people know
It's winter
Winter in America
And ain't nobody fighting
Cause nobody knows what to save
And ain't nobody fighting
Cause nobody knows, nobody knows
And ain't nobody fighting
Cause nobody knows what to save

Home is Where the Hatred Is

A junkie walking through the twilight
I’m on my way home
I left three days ago,
but noone seems to know i’m gone
Home is where the hatred is
Home is filled with pain and it,
might not be such a bad idea if i never, never went home again
Stand as far away from me as you can and ask me why
hang on to your rosary beads
close your eyes to watch me die
you keep saying, kick it, quit it, kick it, quit it
God, but did you ever try
to turn your sick soul inside out
so that the world, so that the world
can watch you die
Home is where i live inside my white powder dreams
home was once an empty vacuum that’s filled now with my silent screams
home is where the needle marks
try to heal my broken heart
and it might not be such a bad idea
if i never, if i never went home again.

Running

Because I always feel like running
Not away, because there is no such place
Because if there was, I would have found it by now
Because it's easier to run,
Easier than staying and finding out you're the only one who didn't run
Because running will be the way your life and mine will be described,
As in "the long run"
Or as in having "given someone a run for his money"
Or as in "running out of time"
Because running makes me look like everyone else, though I hope there will ever be cause for that
Because I will be running in the other direction, not running for cover
Because if I knew where cover was, I would stay there and never have to run for it
Not running for my life, because I have to be running for something of more value to be running and not in fear
Because the thing I fear cannot be escaped, eluded, avoided, hidden from, protected from, gotten away from,
Not without showing the fear as I see it now
Because closer, clearer, no sir, nearer
Because of you and because of that nice
That you quietly, quickly be causing
And because you're going to see me run soon and because you're going to know why I'm running then
You'll know then
Because I'm not going to tell you now


everything I love in an artist - rest in peace, may you find the dimension where the revolution is no longer necessary.

*patting myself on the back*

Almost year ago on June 7th, a friend took a picture of me that I hated and launched a revolution!

I had my son early, I was 21 and my body bounced back pretty quickly. I had my daughter when I was 35, it was a difficult/complicated pregnancy, a very ripped apart delivery and I spent 2 years nursing her. At 37, my body was wrecked LOL, seriously. After I stopped nursing, I quickly lost 10-15 pounds, but I wasn’t happy with my shape. My energy was pretty low and my motivation was zero, until I saw that picture.

Since then, I have committed to making exercise a part of my life. It wasn’t about loosing weight, it was about regaining control and strength. Three weeks early, I have reached a pretty big milestone. In the past 11 months, I have walked 500 miles (805 kilometers)! That’s more 1.3 million additional steps, about an average of 12 miles per week. Now, I walk, run, do core and strength training at least 4 times per week. I make time for it, it gives me perspective and burns some of my restless energy better than yoga…its good stuff.

So today, I am celebrating! To my health …cheers :)

The Saint

There is no suffering for the one
who has completed the journey,
who is freed from sorrow,
who has freed oneself on all sides,
who has thrown off all chains.

The thoughtful exert themselves;
they do not delight in a home;
like swans who have left their lake,
they leave their house and home.

Those who have no accumulations, who eat properly,
who have perceived release and unconditioned freedom,
their path is difficult to understand,
like that of birds in the sky.

Those whose passions are stilled,
who are indifferent to pleasure,
who have perceived release and unconditioned freedom,
their path is difficult to understand,
like that of birds in the sky.

Even the gods admire one whose senses are controlled,
like horses well tamed by the driver,
who is free from pride and free from appetites.
Such a dutiful one who is tolerant like the earth,
who is firm like a pillar,
who is like a lake without mud:
no new births are in store for this one.

One's thought is calm;
calm is one's word and one's action
when one has obtained freedom by true knowledge
and become peaceful.
The one who is free from gullibility,
who knows the uncreated, who has severed all ties,
removed all temptations, renounced all desires,
is the greatest of people.

In a village or in a forest, in a valley or on the hills,
wherever saints live, that is a place of joy.
Forests are delightful; where others find no joy,
there the desireless will find joy,
for they do not seek the pleasures of the senses.

- Lord Buddha

ego

My father is a chauvinist, always has been. Vertically challenged, with an intellectual case of short mans disease, he is dismissive to women and undermines their authority at every imagined slight. Graduating from high school, he told me that college wasn’t for me, that perhaps I was better suited for secretary school. At the age of 19, I joined the Navy, he told me I wouldn’t make it. I stopped speaking to him for a few years and there are days lately when I want to cut him out again due to his disrespect.

I am an over achiever. I am fiercely self sufficient. I am fearless and brave to the point of arrogant confidence. Anything that supposedly cannot be done, I will do and will silently throw it around in my aura of “up yours”. I do not boast, I no longer pound my chest in pride…these days Im content on watching people squirm in their need to size me up.

So, needless to say, the two are linked. I have strove for my fathers approval blindly my whole life and didn’t realize his chauvinism until the last five years or so. My over achieving and desire to prove him wrong has branded me, molded me. And now, as I routinely find myself chaffed by his disrespectful and dismissive comments, I realize finally, that I threaten him. A coward, a small man with insecure thought processes…I should pity him. Instead, this revelation makes me tilt my head waaaaaay back and laugh from the depths of my core. All the pain he inflicted on my sense of who I am, all the unjust judgment, all the personal affronts…they were just his way of posturing.

The number one enemy of compassion, is the ego.

My ego is stemmed from his chauvinism.
My ego is why his chauvinism hurts me.
My ego prevents me from forgiving either one of my parents.
My ego stands in my way like a fortress, it taints my progress.
My ego is silent and loud at the same time, it colors every action, every intent.

Conceptually, I understand how to rid myself of the obvious forms of attachment, but I grip onto my ego like a life preserver. Who would I be without the ego that has shaped and defined me?

green colored glasses

Its funny how spring plays tricks on the mind…everywhere I look there is green, creeping into every crevice, filling in the air between branches, gracefully carpeting every hill, every field…just a few weeks ago the stark barren contrast was a depressing ode to loss…now I can barely remember the feeling. I look out and expect to see a trace of it somewhere, but thankfully it has retreated. It’s a testament to the power of rejuvenation. A witness to the minds the ability to forget and discard the unpleasantness. Spring is bursting at the seams and with it, my hope, my gratitude, my spirits, all full and ripe. Yes, YES!! Indeed.

stale

the air I breathe is full of naked moments left behind in a fire,
charred, the journals of my once inspired mind fell to dust.
now more of a nuisance,
a nagging tug at my inability to create magic.
it falls around and lingers on every breath,
choking the whispers of my forgotten intuitive prose.
the neglect I feel from myself is glaring.
to offer myself upon the letters that produce words,
which build lines, that create pieces of me,
is no longer a part of the air I breathe.
the science of my charm sits un-soothed,
blistered and raw.
the urge ever present, but the flow never expressed.
defeat collects in the absence of encouragement,
it pools and assembles war against the pen
using insecure tactics and bindings that pinch your nerve to try anyway.
I yearn for the community that previously made me whole...
full of likeminded artists who filled the air I breathe
with vibrant colors and imaginative rhythm.
sated my lungs with purpose that bled to my fingers instinctually,
possessed with the need to release and engrave my emotion on the page.
but not today,
not in this fade that has become my insipid existence
starved for oxygen
greedy for a view outside myself
to rejuvenate this stale air I breathe.